


She Let Him Go--The Moving On Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, F/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: She couldn't take the pain anymore. Takes place before Leverage formed.





	She Let Him Go--The Moving On Job

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been fascinated by Maggie Collins. The fact that she married a guy that seems to be the total opposite of her is kinda crazy on her part. Maybe she likes bad boys? She definitely couldn't resist Nate's charm (or possibly his blue eyes, you pick). The fact that they couldn't stay together after Sam's death is interesting to ask why. Maybe there were issues before in the marriage? Or did she do what she needed to do to save her sanity. I really don't think that Nate was a total asshole (only at times). She had to have seen something good in him.

She Let Him Go—The Moving On Job

Takes place prequel.

 

She couldn’t take the pain anymore. There had to be another way, a better way to solve this puzzle.  Just looking at him made her heart skip a beat, the way he crumbled every time a song played on the radio, the way he went into a trance when he saw another child close in age.  There had to be a better way to save her sanity.

Moving on?  Was that the only way? She’d pledged her heart and soul to this man so many years ago. Where would moving on get her? Loneliness, isolation, the ability to pick apart every single memory in her brain until there was nothing left.  Was that what he was already doing in front of her?  Was he reliving that very moment, when the doctors threw their hands up, when the monitors beeped, flatlined, which told her that her only son was no longer in existence? Was that what he saw when he looked at her every morning? 

Did the alcohol dull the pain?  She’d tried it a few times, hoping she’d see what he saw, she’d feel what he felt. It only made her angry, sick to her stomach and wary of ever trying a drink again.  He said it helped him think, dulled the ache in his soul. It only made her want to throw something at him. Dulling the pain was his crutch to bear. Putting her life back together was hers.

He loved their son like no father had ever loved a child.  It was clear, from the first moment he laid eyes on their beautiful baby boy, that she’d never be able to be a part of that beautiful moment.  Was she grateful?  Of course. Having so many fathers be detached from their children, like they were burdens to bear instead of joys to be around made her heart sing that he was indeed different.  He’d worked with her, through the depression that had hit soon after he was born, to her going back to work, leaving their precious son in daycare.  He spoke with his son like he was a precious stone, to be treasured daily, even if he wasn’t in the same time zone.  Of course, she was the mother, the one that her son depended on to dress himself, to get to school on time, to make sure that his baseball uniform was clean.  Her husband couldn’t be bothered by such trivial things.  But he provided something that she never could.  As she watched them, heads bent together, talking in whispers about something she could never understand, she got it.  They were one in the same, lifelong friends who finished each other’s sentences, who understood with just a look.  That she would be ever grateful for, since she most certainly did not have that connection with her son.

As she slowly watched the coffin being lowered into the ground, she thought that he would jump into the hole and beg for the dirt to be shoveled on his head.  It didn’t help that he’d drank at least a fifth before the funeral, eyes sunken in, clothes hanging from his body from lack of eating and sleeping.  He was a hot mess and then some.  He didn’t want anyone to help him. He just wanted to wallow in his misery and not acknowledge that he was her son too, the one that she held to her breast on those long, lonely nights he was away.  The one who held him when he was scared of the dark, the one she held when he had a fever. That first fever, when they just thought it was a childhood illness like all kids get. 

What he didn’t realize was she wanted to jump in after him, open that coffin and lay with her only child one very last time.  She’d always been stoic, the one to handle her emotions, to show their son that it was alright to cry, but it was also good to hold it in, to not let them see you suffer.  All he could do was scream, cry. All she wanted to do was hide.

So she finally had the courage to tell him what she thought.  If he listened, then fine, maybe they’d get through this as a couple. If he didn’t, then the door was wide open. Only she never had that conversation. He didn’t come home that night or the next.  When he did walk in the door, clothes torn and dirty, face bloodied from some kind of fight, she knew she had to make the decision to end this farce once and for all, if not for just her sanity, but to maybe snap his back into focus.  He took it, her announcement, without much fanfare, gathering what little clothes he could. She’d save the rest of his things for later, hoping that he would come back for them.  The sports equipment that he had bought in anticipation of playing another year of baseball.  All the baseball cards that they had collected together over the last few years, talked about ad nauseum until she said for them to pick a different subject.  All the drawings that he had created, that had once been stuck on the refrigerator by the proud artist. She never threw anything away, possibly knowing in her heart that he would be her one and only.

Boxing up his toys, placing them in the garage for some reason instead of getting rid of them, had her mind swimming late one night.  As she wrenched the door open to the garage, she muddled through until she found the box she was looking for.  The clothes inside still smelled like him, if just a little, even though they had been washed and laid into the box like he would be only gone for a short time. 

Collapsing on the dirty ground, she hugged the baseball uniform tight, tears streaming down her face. There was no one to see her grieve, no one to hold her at night when the dreams became overwhelming. There was only silence, deafening, defeating silence that threatened to take her back to that point when he was first born, when all she wanted to do was sleep and never awake. He wouldn’t want that, for his own mother to succumb to the darkness. His face was always the light, the one thing that pulled her through those dark days, smiling at her for the first time, drool hanging from his lips.

Now she had nothing.  No husband, no child, no life. The halls were empty, her heart was crushed. How could she pick up the pieces? Should she reach out, see how he was doing?

The phone number she had was disconnected.  The courage that she had rallied meant nothing. She had no idea where he was and what he was doing.  Did he grieve, did he drown his sorrow as much as he did when he was here?  Or had he finally moved on?

A call, a short text a few months later at least gave her a phone number. He’d changed numbers. That was all she knew. She was tempted to hire a private investigator just to find out where he was.  He’d call.  He’d call on those important dates, like a birthday, or a holiday.  Those were the hardest to get through. He’d call. Only he didn’t. When she tried, because yes, she finally did try, all she got back from him was “I can’t”. A bottle of wine later had her crying her eyes out, wondering why, at least when it came to their son, he couldn’t. So each time she tried, each time those two words. He couldn’t. So she could.  She’d honor her wonderful boy even if his loving father could not.  She’d visit his grave, keep his memory alive as much as she could. She’d cry on those important dates, even though she had no one else to share it with.

The shock of seeing him, half drunk already, clothes dark and dreary, hair longer than usual, curling to and fro, shocked her.  His eyes weren’t blank like they were before.  There was a light in them, almost like they had been before all this had happened.  He still reeked of whiskey, still was as much the asshole he had become right before she’d thrown him out. 

Something was different. He told her he had no money, no place to stay, then backtracked his statements. He was lying. The bastard was lying to her. She had no idea about what, but she knew that look. He was so bad at it. Or maybe she just knew him too well. Why would he lie to her? Was he always lying to her while they were married? Or was this a new thing?

Was he playing on the wrong side?  There was always a bit of danger in the way he handled things at work, going for the con to get items back instead of leaving it to the police. That meant he recovered a lot more items back in the day, but it also meant he had almost stepped over the line many times.  It had bothered her on occasion, particularly when he was put in harm’s way just for the job.  He would tell her that everything was alright, even after being shot. He would never quit the one thing that made him feel alive.

Now here he was, attempting to sell an item that had surfaced after being out of circulation for so long.  Where had he attained the knowledge and why was he the middle man?  It was all too fishy.  She verified that it was real, but his stance had made her even more wary of what might happen. 

Then she found out from one of Ian’s secretaries that something had gone wrong with the deal and he had scattered, along with some nefarious people who were possibly criminals.  The two Davids were in their possession, ready to be displayed in the new gallery being built just for them, and over $150 million dollars’ worth of art.  She’d gladly work with the staff to make sure the art was displayed in the best light, even if it meant to be displayed in a fortress. Whatever the client wanted, even if that client was more of an asshole than her former husband.

The moment she got the phone call, she knew something was up.  That other man, the one that was very charming and very well built wanted to have coffee. It was a setup, not a very good one mind you.  Her ability to spot the smallest imperfection should have warned all of them that she could spot a fake a mile away.  Goading him just felt so good, even if it meant embarrassing him just a little.  His group was smart, fast, good at what they did.  They were all fairly young, beautiful and possibly dangerous if her readings were right.  They made the almost perfect group to take on the world. And he had formed it just for that.  The revenge would be sweet and would take the bad guy by surprise. 

The biggest surprise, something that she never thought had happened, occurred. He actually brought their son up in conversation.  It was to garner her support for said revenge, and it worked.  He had lied to save her sanity, all the while drowning in his own. He had taken it upon himself to shield her from the worst of the worst, just so she could live and rebuild her life in relative peace.  That peace was shattered the moment he told her that the bad guy was responsible for the lack of treatment necessary to save her son.  She didn’t know, never suspected, even though there had to have been whispers behind her back.  Not only had the bad guy played her, they all did, even the so-called friends at work. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that he was responsible for keeping such a damning secret, one that helped her move on and rebuild a life worth living.

They were going down, even if it meant her carefully rebuilt life would shatter.  In the end, once everything was said and done, it all was worth it.  The five people who walked the line between good and bad, criminal and good guys, had gotten said revenge.  She never found out whether that treatment would have ultimately saved her son’s life.  It was experimental, costs astronomical.  Why would he put a value on her son’s life?  Did the stockholders mean more than an eight-year-old boy?

It felt good, putting the past behind her finally.  Realizing that her ex-husband was just that, in the past.  He had his crew, and she had her sanity. She guessed it was a good trade.  She most definitely liked the direction he was heading, showing his true self to the world.  If he couldn’t be an honest man, he could be a good man, one that fought for injustice, for people who needed help and had nowhere to turn.

She liked where he was. Just like she liked where she had ended up. Maggie would always remember how much she loved Nate, how much she admired him, how much he loved their son.

 

“I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?”

Maggie had heard those words twice during their marriage.  Once when he forgot to call her when he was in Europe, probably chasing Sophie. He never told her what the case was.  The second time was when Sam died. How could he have prevented their son’s death? Nate always thought it was all on him.

They both sat in the brew pub, visiting the three younger members of Leverage.  Jim threw in that he’d never visit these criminals, but Maggie had dragged him along, knowing that this was important to all of them.

“I was the worst husband, the worst man in the history of marriage.  I was never home.  I didn’t communicate at all with you. I failed to protect you and our son. I should have grieved with you instead of pushing you away.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say.  Did Sophie make Nate say all of this, on this special day for him?  Was this his way of atoning for what he’d done or not done for her? She could see the tears forming in his eyes, the way he ducked his head like he was embarrassed but truthful at the same time. 

“I messed up. I just, I really messed it all up. There’s nothing I can say…”

Maggie grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly, so that he knew she understood. There had been no way she would have understood back then, almost a decade before.

“Can you imagine how he’d be right now?  I just, he’d be such a pain in the ass.”

“Just like his father,” Maggie joked, trying not to cry.

“Just like I was so long ago.”

Nate took a stuttering breath, letting it out slowly.

“Thank you, Nate.  You did what you could do with what you had.  Sam loved you so, so much. Remember that.”

“Did you?  Love me I mean?”

Why did he actually have to ask that question?  That she would have done almost anything to keep him close after Sam had died?  That it had broken her heart into pieces to let him go because that’s what he needed. There was no way he was going to heal nor was she with the constant reminder looming in the shadows.  Neither one of them could handle the pressure. They needed to find a different way of living. After all the years of thinking that maybe she’d done the wrong thing by telling him to leave, now she was certain it was best for both of them.

“Yes,” was all she could say before the first tear fell.  She wanted to add always, but knew that still loving him, telling him that wasn’t right.  She’d always have a place in her heart for the man sitting next to her, the one that made her heart beat faster the first time she saw him, young and cocky and oh so adorable.  His blue eyes may have diminished in brightness a little, he certainly wasn’t as skinny and lithe as he was all those years ago, but the cockiness was still there, blunted somewhat from age, but he was still the most adorable man she’d ever met.

“Thank you. For everything.”

As she watched him walk away, to his future with someone who was the total opposite she was, she knew she’d made the right decision. 


End file.
